


Where Death Never Steps do I meet my Gods

by Gattoartico



Series: Gatto’s Oneshot Shop of Horrors [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Welsh Mythology
Genre: Arawn bein a dad, Gen, Harry Needs a Hug, Harry being a touch starved smol, Harry meets some gods, Is this a somewhat competent/caring adult for Harry?, I’ll go back and update the others with the verse tags, The cosmic vibes be growin, Ychydig Meistr verse, all my homies hate the Dursleys, anyway, more likely than you think, the Dursleys are a bunch of bitches, this builds the start of the verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:22:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29451495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gattoartico/pseuds/Gattoartico
Summary: For a small boy of ten years Harry sits before things that have made braver men than he descend into madness.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Amatheon (Welsh Mythology), Harry Potter & Arawn (Mabinogion)
Series: Gatto’s Oneshot Shop of Horrors [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2145099
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7
Collections: Harry Potter Fanfic Must Reads





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoy this installment! 
> 
> Took me a good week to work on, have the next two started, hopefully the next is posted on the following Sunday. Which means I’m gonna try to stick to a weekly Sunday update schedule, lets see how long it lasts!
> 
> Big thanks to both red_can_draw and gaymedievaldruid for being my betas and with gmd being the source of the ending of this fic. I talk a lot about the fics I’m working on in certifiedclown’s discord! Feel free to check them out and hop on into the Hot Take House! 
> 
> Server link! I couldn’t get the hyperlink code to work, apologies!
> 
> https://discord.gg/VPE7Ef86rF
> 
> See you all in the next installment!
> 
> Edit 02/28/21
> 
> Introduced a total of 68 edits proposed by an additional beta that hadn’t made the publish cutoff, mostly grammar, punctuation, and flow changes, nothing major. The content should still be the same. Big thanks to acourtofbooksandtea for these. Ran into them in the discord for a different Ao3 author lmao, so whoop!
> 
> Anyway as of writing this at 03:45 US Central, the next installment to this verse is nearly finished, just one scene is kicking my butt and I’m relying heavily on gmd to get through it. So they’re getting a much needed promotion

Harry had always known he wasn’t exactly normal. The Dursleys had seen to that. Yet he never quite knew why. They never told him, and punished him for any questions he asked. He quickly learned not to ask questions. Dudley also made sure he regretted being _different_. Not that he knew _why he was different_. Just that he was and that he was punished because of it. It was always with punches and kicks, being chased as far as his little malnourished legs could carry him. Trying to hide, trying to outrun Dudley and his gang. And it was on a perfectly normal day that Harry finally learned why he was different. 

The playground near Privet Drive had a copse of trees on its western edge. Not nearly large enough to be worth cutting down, but not small enough to easily traverse either. It was here that Harry found himself a new hiding spot. In the middle of the copse was a little clearing, barely four paces across. Fortunately for Harry, this meant there was plenty of space for him. The closely packed trees and dense shrubbery hid him from Dudley and his gang. It was calm here, quiet. He found himself dozing a little, the sunlight gently filtering through the leaves, the hollow lit with warm green light.

Then he felt it. 

A sense of wrongness, a feeling that makes your skin crawl and your instincts scream run.

Harry stilled and listened.

Silence.

Not a single bird chirped, no breeze dared rustle the leaves. He could no longer hear Dudley shouting outside the trees either. 

He heard it then. A gentle exhale. Something else was in the hollow with him.

He slowly opened his eyes. Sitting across from him was another boy. No, It wasn’t a boy. It simply looked like one. Fair skin covered in freckles, coppery curls framed an angelic face. Its eyes like two polished emeralds lit from within. Harry could feel it in his bones, the being across from him did not belong in this world. It did not belong in any world.

Harry drew in a ragged gulp as the creature studied him. Neither moving, neither speaking. Seconds stretched into eternity, eternity stretched into moments. 

“Hello.” It’s voice a song of welcoming, the sound of a door opening, the warmth of a mother’s first greeting. 

“Um. He-hello,” Harry nervously replied. Fear coiled in his stomach, heavy and cold. “Who are you?” 

“I have many names. Names in the tongues of men, and names that would ruin the tongue of a man to speak. But you can call me Amatheon, Ychydig Meistr.” it hummed, the stroke of a pen, the grateful voice of a mother, the bitter call of a dying man.

The fear Harry felt lessened, if only the smallest of fractions. Although this being sat before him still terrified him, something about it felt comforting. It felt familiar in a way. “I’m Harry.” he offered.

Amatheon smiled slightly, Its lips stretching too far on a face too narrow. “A good name. It means Ruler of the Home, did you know that?” The rustle of pages, the smell of ink, the stern command of a father.

“No, I didn’t.” Harry said, relaxing a little further. Whatever it was seemed to not mean him harm. At least not yet. Besides, getting killed might be better for him than going back to the Dursleys. “How’d you get in here?” he asked.

“The same way any of mine would, I imagine. Through the cracks in the skin of reality.” The sound of a page tearing, of wind laughing, of the space between stars.

“Oh” Harry blinked. The creature was strange to him. It didn’t speak like anyone he had ever met. It also hadn’t hit him yet or called him a freak or good for nothing delinquent. Or insulted the color of his skin. Maybe it was nice? The moment Harry had thought that, the air grew heavy, and the desire to run spiked higher. He blinked and something else sat next to Amatheon. This one was slightly taller. Pale skin like fresh snow, sun bleached curls and eyes as orange as the fires of hell. Or so Harry imagined. The second blinked at him for a few moments before it smiled as well. Its mouth too big, too many teeth, too many as sharp as blades.

“I thought we agreed not to meet with the Ychydig Meistr until he was older.” It spoke in a riot of sounds, much like the first.

“I decided to come earlier dear brother. I wanted to see what this will do to the course.”

“Fair enough.” The being then turned his attention to Harry. “Hello Ychydig Meistr. What brings you into this nice little pocket of the world?” it queried.

“I’m hiding from my cousin Dudley.” Harry said glumly. He figured if these were going to do him harm, he might as well take Dudley down with him. He continued when the second tilted Its head. “He was playing Harry hunting and chased me into here. He won’t follow though, he’s too big to fit.”

The second nodded Its head,orange eyes never leaving Harry’s face. “I find relations are the most bothersome sort.” The click of a tongue, the wagging of a wolfs’ tail, the rasp of scales on stone.

Amatheon glared at the second and smacked It, while snapping Its fingers. For a moment, the world rippled, the sky turned black, stars changing into a myriad of colors. “I know exactly why you chose those sounds. Don’t insult me like that in front of the Ychydig Meistr, Arawn. It is unbecoming.” This time Its voice was noticeably different, smoother, less fragmented. The chorus of background noise had vanished from Its timbre.

“Not my fault you broke into my palace and stole my dog.” Arawn huffed, the sounds gone from Its voice as well. It glanced up and looked around them. “Shifting us into temporal space? Really brother? Do you even have a reason for that?” It chided.

“My reasons are mine and mine alone.”

Harry watched the two beings bicker. The hollow felt different, the grass was greener than it should be. The trees were taller, the shadows darker. The air tasted like, well, it didn’t have a taste at all. “Are you going to kill me or kidnap me? I kinda want it over with.”

The two stopped and looked at him. The weight of both their gazes heavier than his Uncle's hand upon his back. Even Heavier than the frying pan Aunt had hit him with. 

“We will do neither, Ychydig Meistr. We simply wanted to say hello. To see who would rise.” Amatheon answered, Its tone gentle. “It gets boring here. Sometimes we need to entertain ourselves.”

Arawn nodded in agreement and frowned. “Put him back brother. He is not made for this place. Not yet. It saps what little life remains in him.”

Harry glanced down at his arm and found it thinner. The skin had greyed and turned translucent. His breathes were harder to take, and his heart beat sluggishly in his chest. He looked at the other two and his eyes _burned_. For a moment they stretched beyond the horizon. A wolf-headed snake of green fire coiling across the false-stars. A lion headed bird of blazing hellfire, too big, too close, too far. He blinked and they wore their human skin once more.

“Perhaps you are right, Arawn. The veil is beginning to fray for him, loosening his grasp on sanity.” A crack of the mind, the senseless cackling of a madman, the whispers of the catatonic. The sounds had returned to their voices, the false-stars vanished, the sun returned. Everything was normal. 

“Take care little wizard, we will not return until you have recovered.” The chime of a watch, the slam of gates, the bellow of a giant. 

Harry felt a heaviness hit him hard. It was then he realized in that other place, he had been weightless. His eyes rolled back and he blacked out.

~~

He would awaken hours later, somehow back in his cupboard under the stairs. Confused, he sat up. Had it al been a dream? He paused when his hand landed on something large next to him. Harry reached up and turned the light on. On his bed lay a thick volume, its pages yellowed and fragile from age. The leather bound cover was cracked in several places. He picked it up and opened it. The text was in a mess of symbols, with no order, no consistency to them. They made his eyes sting to look at. Something about it felt the same as the beings he had met.

Harry knew deep inside that this book was written in a language not meant for this world, one that would shred the tongues of those that dared speak it. The language spoken by the Stars between each other, the words of things that should not be in a language that should have never been. He blinked and it was English. In the center of the page it read: _A Muggleborn’s Guide to the Wizarding World by Adrian Santiana._


	2. Chapter 2

Harry’s mind was reeling. It had taken him a few days to make it through the book between his chores. Now at the end he could only sit and marvel.

Magic was real.

Granted, it wasn’t as surprising as it should have been given he had sat in the company of actual gods. Beings that the book devoted an entire two chapters to. Still, magic. He looked at the book again, flicking through its pages. Sections that spoke of etiquette, of politics, of mysteries, of rumors, of fields of study. It covered everything he could ever want or need to know of when it came to the world hidden behind magic. Magic!

He paused on the chapter of the book devoted to Hogwarts. It sounded fascinating to him. Stairs that never stopped moving, doors that often opened to nowhere, rooms that never stayed in the same place twice. A school that taught Magic. Magic! Harry was excited.

For a small boy of a mere ten years old, it was perhaps the greatest thing he had ever read. He eagerly awaited the day he could ride the train to Hogwarts. The day he would be free of his relatives.

His fingers brushed the top of the letter Arawn had left within the book. A letter written in a language that made his eyes itch and his mind scream. The symbols ever shifting, but the words it contained never changed. He smiled slightly. 

_Ychydig Meistr,_

_Perhaps this will benefit you in the future. Always a shame that this book was never written, but a boon that it has always been written. Or perhaps it will be written? I can never be too sure anymore. Time is a fickle thing._

_Brother says to take careful note of the contents of the book, there is importance within. Personally I think you might just like to know about your roots. Where you came from, blood runs thick, but magic runs thicker. I made certain to provide the copy that gives you something of your parents._

_With Interest,_  
_Arawn, Lord Protector of Gryffindor_  
_Lord of Annwn and Hell’s Phoenix_

Harry was happy. He finally knew things about his parents that the Dursleys had never told him. His father had been the Lord of an old family and an Auror, a magical cop. His mother had been an apprentice Charms Master, one of the highest scoring students in her year. Warmth spread in his heart. Now he knew his parents weren’t useless drunks like the Dursleys claimed. He set the letter down as he picked up the book again, intending to reread the part about his parents. A cold chill suddenly gripped Harry’s heart. His blood turned to ice and fear flooded him. The cupboard was suddenly larger than it should have been, and a little more crowded. Harry looked deeper into the cupboard and his eyes _screamed._

For a moment he saw a writhing mass of flames. The heads of lions roaring in silence, birds flying in the depths without aim. He blinked and Arawn sat there instead. The god watched him, eyes burning with orange light. Something about It felt different, less threatening.

“Hi.” Harry waved. He wasn’t surprised the old god had appeared. Meeting them once may have been a near impossibility, but having something left by one was an assurance of return. 

Arawn fiddled with a blazing orange feather that had not been there. “Hello Ychydig Meistr. It is a pleasure to see you again.” A bird song, a lioness’ purr, the crackle of fire. It stood from the floor, smooth grace that didn’t belong in nature. The world seemed to twist and buckle as It moved to sit next to Harry on the bed. A hand rested in Harry’s hair. He could still see both playing with the feather.

Harry’s eyes closed at the contact. It was light, but warm and almost sparked over his skin with comfort. “Yeah,” he mumbled back, eyes drawn to the dance of the feather as soft barbs licked and fluttered from the movement of woody smoke. He felt safe, with this being, Arawn’s fire-blood eyes ever-blazing fiercely, but tender, protective. It gave him the book, it gave him nice words and kind touches. Harry’s heart screamed that this was someone to trust, to hold oh-so close and never let go.

Arawn chuckled, a deep rumble of thunder, a peal of bells, a caw of gulls flying overhead. “You cannot do that yet, young Meistr.” Harry blinked, suddenly aware that his eyes were closed, and his body was leant against Arawn’s. The being let go of the feather and tentatively, as if it were handling a newborn mouse, curled its hand around Harry’s face, the fire of its eyes retreating into their bloody red soul. Harry wanted to cry. “Perhaps one day you will be able to call me something like family, but now…” It trailed off, the shift of dead grass, a desperate call goodbye, a hiss of steam as heat is sapped away from wood. “Now, I fear I would kill you if you were to let me into your heart.”

_No!_ Harry’s heart screamed, _no, that’s not fair, you have to stay with me forever!_ Arawn was too kind, too good for him to ever let it go.

Again Arawn laughed, the crash of waves, the shudder of the earth, the howl of the sky. “I am many things, Harry Potter. But if there is one thing I am not, it is good. ”

~~

Harry would wake up hours later with a cupboard too large for the space it occupied, a shelf of books written in languages that hurt to read. Laid peacefully upon a bedside table that had not been there before, was a feather that seemed to be made of fire, one that when Harry picked it up, he felt a warmth of a fire in winter, the comfort of a parent’s arms.

He didn’t know it yet, but things were far off the course that had once been set for him.


End file.
